


Talk Me Down

by SwedishGirl



Category: Westlife
Genre: Coming Out, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Friendship, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 12:09:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13076583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwedishGirl/pseuds/SwedishGirl
Summary: Mark woke up with a throbbing headache. When he looked around, he realized Nicky was asleep on his left side and Shane on his right side. And when he lifted his head he could see Kian sitting in a chair a few feet away, sleeping."Shit." he thought to himself. "They're actually guarding me. They think I'm suicidal."He lay back down, trying to keep still and quiet not to wake them up. He wasn't ready to look them in the eyes. He didn't remember everything from last night but apparently he had gotten twisted drunk and had some kind of outburst and thrown furniture out the window. That wasn't like him. At all. And worst of all - the lads thought he had tried to kill himself. He hadn't really. Or maybe he had. He wasn't even sure himself. That darkness and misery felt so far away right now, lying here in this warm bright hotel room surrounded by the lads.





	Talk Me Down

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Westlife Merry Kinkmas Ficfest, and my theme was "orientation issues".
> 
> Inspired by the actual incident at the Mondrian Hotel in L.A. involving Mark getting drunk and throwing items out the hotel window.

The evening had started out quite well with a Christmas party in Shane and Gillian's hotel suite. The four lads, a few musicians, a few people from the crew. As more and more people had joined in, Mark had felt more and more uncomfortable. There had been quite a lot of alcohol and Mark had been drinking quite heavily to try and lose the feeling of insecurity he always carried with him.

He knew it wasn’t a good idea to get drunk. Sooner or later, he would probably get too drunk and be persuaded by one of the lads to spill his guts again. That’s what had happened when he’d been forced to tell Bryan. Bryan had gotten him twisted drunk and dragged it out of him kicking and screaming. Since then, Bryan had been constantly trying to persuade him to tell the other lads. To tell anyone. But Mark just couldn’t. It was probably a good thing Bryan had gone home to Ireland for a few days. Needing to recover from nervous anxiety had been the official reason. The truth was that him and Mark had been partying so hard and for so many days in a row that Bryan had gotten delirium and hadn’t been able to sleep for four days. It had been scary.

At the party, there had been this girl from the crew who was really nice and whom Mark had talked to. Mark had enjoyed talking to her, she was nice and funny and made him laugh. But after a few drinks she had reached up and tried to kiss Mark, and he had just looked down into the floor and everything had become so fucking awkward. She'd left to go talk to someone else after that, leaving Mark feeling like an idiot.

Mark could see Shane and Gillian sitting in a sofa, holding hands and talking. Shane only had eyes for her. They looked so fucking perfect. So fucking happy.

Nicky was talking to Georgina in one corner of the room. Mark could see Georgina keeping a hand on Nicky's waist. They looked like they had shared something really funny and Nicky tilted his head back and laughed. Georgina put her arms around Nicky's neck and they continued talking, looking deep into each other’s eyes. Mark wanted to throw up.

Mark could see Kian at the window, surrounded by girls. He looked delighted over the attention he was getting. He was probably choosing which one to take back to his room later. It was fucking disgusting.

Mark was standing alone in a corner. Probably looking like a moron. He already had a reputation as the shy weird one who rejected people. This wasn't helping. But he just couldn't see the point in trying to socialize with these people. He could find someone to chat with, sure he could. He could probably enjoy it as well. But then the girls would always want more, and he wasn't interested. And he wasn't good at small talk. He never knew what to say and he always felt he needed to protect his privacy.

So, he had grabbed a bottle of whiskey and slipped into the bedroom in the back and started to drink on his own. He could hear the party going on out there and that only made him feel worse. He hated himself for not being able to just...enjoy life. What the hell was wrong with him. Here he was, in the most successful boy band in the world, getting to sing for a living, earning loads of money, getting to travel the world, hanging out with his friends 24/7. But despite all this, his life felt completely empty. Completely meaningless. What was the point of all this when he couldn't even... 

Fuck, he couldn't even think it to himself. If he thought it, maybe it would show somehow. He had put this away so carefully. He had spent hours and hours in front of the mirror, trying to see if it somehow showed. Practicing to look as masculine as it was possible. Practicing how to walk in a masculine way. Practicing how to...look straight, basically. He had seen those first couple of music videos with Westlife, where he did those awkward smiles and walked in this almost effeminate way. He had been adamant to erase all that and he thought he had succeeded pretty well by now.

But life hadn't improved. It had just become more and more like a prison. Now he almost wished that it would show on the outside, whatever he was on the inside. But he couldn't change it back now. It was too late for that, now when every step he took was photographed and every word he said ended up in the papers.

He took a couple of more sips from the bottle. It was disgusting, but he forced himself to drink.

He had been sitting in here for quite a while now. Getting more and more drunk. It was probably late, because he could hear more and more people leaving the party, leaving the suite more and more quiet. No one came looking for him. They probably didn't even notice he was gone. Nobody cared about him. Everyone was so fucking busy with their own fucking happiness, their own fucking girlfriends. Why would anyone care about him? They probably just thought he was weighing them down. They were probably better off without him.

Yes, that's it. Everyone would be relieved if he wasn't around. The lads wouldn't have to worry about him screwing their concerts up because he was nervous. They wouldn't have to worry about him not hitting the high note in Flying Without Wings. Management wouldn't have to pay for a single room for him. No one would have to pretend they cared about him and his weird depressed fucked up mind.

Okay. That's it, then.

He had to struggle to get on his feet, as he was quite drunk now. He went over to the window and opened it. When he leant out, he could see a back yard covered by a neatly trimmed lawn. No people around.

Just by the window, there was a small table and two chairs. He pushed one of them up close to the window and then he tried to climb onto it. Every cell in his body screamed "DON'T!"

Standing shakily on the chair, he put one foot up into the window. He could hear his own blood in his ears. His heart was pounding so fast. His head was spinning.

He just needed to take one more step.

Mum. 

Dad.

Their faces flashed in front of him. It felt like if someone had given a blow to his stomach. He had to close his eyes and gasp for air. 

Then he fell.

His hands tried to find something to hold onto. He hit his head on the window sill. The chair was pushed backwards. He landed on the floor between the chair and the window.

He cursed himself for being so clumsy. He was supposed to fall out of the window, not fall flat on the floor like some old pisshead. This was fucking pathetic.

It took a while for him to get on his feet again. He leant out the window and looked down. It wasn't that high. Maybe falling from here wouldn't kill him. That would be even more tragic, wouldn't it. Throwing himself out the window and then survive. 

He decided to throw something out the window to see how it looked when it crashed. He lifted the chair he had been standing on. He had to struggle a bit to get it up and out, and then it fell. It smashed to pieces when it hit the ground down there. 

Okay, that was probably good enough. If he could somehow make himself land on his head he would definitely die.

He pushed the second chair up to the window. Then he climbed it, the whiskey bottle still in his hand. He took a few sips.

He was standing there for what felt like an eternity. He cursed himself for not having the courage to just do this. 

Suddenly, he could see hotel staff down there. Fucking hell. He could see them turning their heads to look up at the window. He quickly climbed down from the chair, he did NOT want them to see him. 

The last few sips of alcohol suddenly kicked in and the room started to spin violently. He couldn't stand up anymore. He collapsed, and ended up sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. 

He felt completely empty. He couldn't live. He couldn't die. So what the hell was he supposed to do? His whole life was just one big dead-end. He would never be able to be himself. He would just do this stupid charade until...until what exactly? It would never stop. He would be stuck in this secret for the rest of his life. Everyone else would marry, have kids, celebrate things, grow old together, basically live life. He would just sit in a hotel room alone and rot away.

He was surprised when he realized he was crying.

* * *

There was a hard knock on the door to Shane's hotel suite. When Shane opened, he was met by two pairs of stern eyes. One of the men was obviously hotel security. The other one was dressed in a suit, probably a hotel manager or something.

"-What do you think you're doing?"   
"-Excuse me?" Shane said.  
"-There are reports of furniture being thrown from the windows of your suite."  
"-What?!"  
"-From in there." the man said and pointed to the room next door.

Shane looked in disbelief at them. Gillian was sitting on the couch in front of the TV and now she was looking tentatively towards them.

"-We need to go in."  
"-Of course..." Shane said.

That's when it hit him. Mark. Mark had been missing the last couple of hours of the party. He was known lately for getting too drunk and sort of passing out. All of the lads were worried about his behavior, but he hadn't shared with any of them what the problem was, despite their efforts in trying to talk to him.

"-Wait!" Shane almost yelled and pushed ahead of them.

The sight that met him when he opened the door made his heart sink.

Mark was sitting on the floor looking completely devastated, his back to the wall. Beside him there was an open window with a chair in front of it. An empty bottle of whiskey was lying on the floor.

Shane stopped in the doorway for a second to try and understand what he was seeing. He was painfully aware of the two men standing behind him, looking over his shoulder with prying eyes. Suddenly, he felt very protective of Mark.

"-Please." he said.  
"-He needs to leave this hotel." the security guy said, nodding in Mark's direction.  
"-Yes. Just give us a minute, okay." Shane said.

The two men nodded and backed away. Shane rushed to Mark's side and knelt beside him. He put a hand on his shoulder.

"-Mark, what's the matter?"

Mark only shook his head.

Gillian was standing in the doorway now, looking utterly concerned.

"-Go get Kian." Shane begged her.

She nodded.

"-Look at me Mark. Tell me what happened."

Mark hung his head and mumbled:

"-I'm just...useless... Couldn't even...do that properly..."  
"-Do what...?" Shane asked.

Then it dawned on him. The open window. The chair.

His eyes widened and he kicked the chair away in horror and pulled Mark into his arms. He could feel tears rise in his eyes and his voice didn't quite carry when he said:

"-No, Mark... No no no... Please tell me you didn't..."

Shane couldn't say more, he was crying too hard. He could feel Mark turning into his embrace, leaning heavy on him.

They were both sitting on the floor, desperately holding on to each other when Kian arrived.

"-What happened?"  
"-This stupid idiot... He tried to..." Shane began before a sob stopped him from continuing. He nodded towards the window.

Kian looked terrified when he walked up to the open window and leant out. He saw hotel staff gathering pieces from what seemed to be a broken chair down there. It took a few seconds before he realized.

"-Really?" he said to Shane, disbelief and shock written all over his face.

Shane nodded, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Kian looked down again and felt sick when thinking that could have been Mark lying down there in pieces.

Kian quickly closed the window and then he knelt beside them. Mark was holding onto Shane as if his life depended on it, trembling and keeping his face pressed to Shane's chest. Shane was crying even worse, embracing Mark desperately. Kian joined them and put his arms around them both. He was still processing things in his mind and was more in shock than anything else.

Gillian had gone to get Nicky as well and when he arrived, Kian got up from the floor to meet him. If Nicky looked shocked when he arrived, it was nothing compared to how he looked after Kian had mumbled a quick explanation to him.

Nicky came and put a hand on Mark's back. He tried to make eye contact with Shane, whispering:

"-Did he really...?"

Shane nodded.

"-You stupid fucking idiot. What were you thinking." Shane mumbled into Mark's hair, tears in his voice.

Kian was at their side as well now. All four of them sitting on the floor, Mark sort of surrounded on all sides by protective arms. Shane, Kian and Nicky trying to comfort each other as much as Mark.

After a while, Gillian came in again.

"-Shane... The staff outside..." she almost whispered.  
"-I'll deal with them." Kian said and stood up.

Kian went outside and now there were three of them standing there waiting.

"-Hey, I'm sorry about what happened. We will pay for everything, of course. It won't happen again."  
"-Yes, of course. Unfortunately, I will have to ask him to leave this hotel." the man in the suit said.

Kian just stared at him.

"-I'm sorry. It's merely hotel policy."  
"-What, like, now?"  
"-Yes. Would you ask him to follow me, please."

Kian felt the anger rise within him. He could have punched this stuck-up hotel manager in the face. He could have fucking killed him.

"-Right." he said. "-Well, he is in no state to leave. But we can't mess with hotel policy now, can we."  
"-Well, I do have hotel security with me."  
"-You're gonna carry him out of the building, is that it? Then I'm afraid your security guys will have to carry all four of us, we're not leaving him."

They were standing there looking at each other, as if it was some kind of a duel. Finally, the hotel manager said:

"-Very well. He can remain here over night, if someone stays with him. And I will hold you personally responsible if anything happens."

Kian knew he was obliged to say "thank you", but he just couldn't. He gave the hotel manager a sharp look and then he went back inside, closing the door behind him with a bang.

When Kian got back inside, Mark was lying on the floor. Curled up on his side, head resting in Shane's lap, seemingly half asleep. Nicky had put a blanket over him and was sitting on the floor right next to them, keeping a hand on his back.

Silent tears were still rolling down Shane's face as he kept stroking Mark's hair.

"-Get him to bed?" Kian almost whispered.

Shane nodded. They helped Mark to stand up and led him towards the bed. None of them said much. What were they supposed to say?

The bed was big enough for three of them, so they put Mark in the middle and then Nicky and Shane laid down on either side of him. Nicky spooned him from behind to try and provide a feeling of security. Shane placed himself opposite Mark and let a comforting hand stroke Mark's hair until he fell asleep.

* * *

The next morning, Mark woke up with a throbbing headache. When he looked around, he realized Nicky was asleep on his left side and Shane on his right side. And when he lifted his head he could see Kian sitting in a chair a few feet away, sleeping.

"Shit." he thought to himself. "They're actually guarding me. They think I'm suicidal."

He lay back down, trying to keep still and quiet not to wake them up. He wasn't ready to look them in the eyes. He didn't remember everything from last night but apparently, he had gotten twisted drunk and had some kind of outburst and thrown furniture out the window. That wasn't like him. At all. And worst of all - the lads thought he had tried to kill himself. He hadn't really. Or maybe he had. He wasn't even sure himself now. That darkness and misery felt so far away right now, lying here in this warm bright hotel room surrounded by the lads. 

It hadn't been a proper attempt really. He had known all along that he wasn't gonna go through with it. He just sort of wanted to allow himself think the thoughts properly for once. The thoughts that had just been blurry repressed ghosts for several years. He wanted to think them and feel the impact, once and for all.

He wasn't the type that committed suicide. He was way too worried what other people might think. Worried about the poor people who would find him lying there with a crushed head. Worried about how his friends and family would react. Worried about…mum.

He had been standing there, though. On that chair. Looking down. But somewhere deep inside, he had known that this was not the solution. Somewhere deep inside he had known there was a better way.

He felt like last night had been the low point of something and now the only way to go was up. He was relieved. It felt good that he had pushed himself to the very limit last night. Now he knew. He knew what he needed to do. And he was going to start as soon as the lads woke up. Today would be the day when he would tell them. Tell them who he really was.


End file.
